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the-modern-typewriter · 3 days

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ive been obsessed with your work and i honestly just can't get enough of them! Could i make a request please please please! Supervillain captures hero and tortures them for months until they suddenly get bored of them and ask villain to get rid of them. Villain doesn't know that it's hero he was ordered to kill by supervillain and when he enters the cell where hero was he becomes shocked by what he sees and can't get himself to kill hero. Please continue this however you like im so excited!!

The villain stopped in the doorway of the cell.

It would be wrong to say he stopped dead, given being dead was supposed to be a relatively peaceful thing after the horror of it all.

(The hero, surely, wished that they were dead.)

The villain's mouth worked, but no sound would come out at first. He felt like he'd been punched in the windpipe. In the stomach. In all the vulnerable, gasping places.

(The hero, surely, would find that laughable given the state of them. They would love to only have the air knocked out of them.)

They lay in a broken heap in one corner of the otherwise pristine cell - no chance of infection or disease ending their suffering early, oh no. They were a blot of colour against the white of it all. Bruises yellow and purple and green. Blood red. The glint of bone where no bone should be visible.

Perfectly clean, glossy hair. Intricate, shiny restraints untouched by the violence around them. No clothes.

"Have you come to kill me?" the hero asked.

Their voice was raw, raspy, whether from disuse or screaming he couldn't be sure. It was impossible to miss the most tentative note of hope in the hero's tone.

The villain swallowed. Hard. "Yes," he said. Then, "I've been ordered to. I -" He swore. "I didn't know you were here. I didn't - oh god. How long have you been here?"

He willed down the nausea. What right did he have to be nauseous?

It was impossible to miss the hope and, abruptly, equally impossible to fulfill his task.

He crossed the room in one swift movement, kneeling at the hero's side, flailing to pull off his jacket. To cover the hero with something soft and kind against the bitter chill of the dungeons.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay? It's going to be alright."

He didn't want to bring a blade down on the hero's ruined flesh, he wanted to offer soothing creams and bandages. He didn't want to invite the hero to drink poison, when he could give painkillers. How could he destroy? All he wanted was to fix.

The hero's gaze finally moved over to him, with seemingly great effort. There was very little behind their eyes. Everything except desperation had been carved out, leaving them some hollowed thing with their innards dumped like garbage on the side.

The villain was reminded of Halloween pumpkins and husked-out dolls, rabid dogs too exhausted to do more than froth and whine.

"Please," the hero said. "Don't."

Once upon a time, the hero had never pleaded. At least not without a glint in their eyes, a mocking twist of their bright mouth, like pleading was a favour, an inside joke that they were both in on.

"You don't want to get out of here?" the villain demanded.

"I don't want to wake up here again tomorrow."

"I won't let that happen."

"Like you didn't let this happen?"

The villain flinched. There was nothing he could say to that, was there? He could beg forgiveness, but the hero didn't even say it like accusation. It was just a matter of fact. Resigned.

"Finish it." The hero closed their eyes, apparently done with the conversation. "If you ever cared about me. Just...just finish it. You need to finish it. Please."

The villain pulled a knife obligingly from one of his many sheathes. He'd seen a lot of dead bodies. His hand wavered, utterly unable to imagine the hero as one of them.

"No," the villain said. His shoulders squared. "No. You're right, I let you down. God, I let you down. But I - I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix this."

Maybe it was selfish. He'd never claimed to be an altruistic man.

He stepped out of the dungeons some twenty minutes later, gently cradling the hero's body in his arms.

He stopped a second time.

The supervillain lounged against the stairs leading up, eyes glittering, a delighted grin upon their face.

The villain's mouth dried. He glanced down at the hero, who tensed, but did not seem surprised.

They seemed...guilty.

The villain's stomach plunged icy.

"Oh, you failed," the supervillain crooned. They pushed to their feet. "I really wasn't sure which way it would go. We had to have a little bet."

"You-"

The supervillain attacked with monstrous swiftness. Both hero and villain cried out as they hit the floor; the sounds impossible to distinguish from each other. Everything rang sickening with pain.

The supervillain caught hold of the villain's hair, yanking their head back. In an instant, the villain felt their powers sweep over his body, locking every joint and muscle in place. Rigid. Rigor-mortis.

"Good job," the supervillain said, to the hero, in the tone of one promising a lollypop to a toddler. "As promised, you can go now. Crawl away if you can. The front gate locks in one hour! You know what happens if you don't make it."

The hero choked on a sob.

The villain and the supervillain both watched them, agonisingly, try to move. They managed a mere inch. Dragging themselves, with bloodied-nails, across the polished floor.

Then the supervillain turned their attention, dismissively, back to the villain. They tightened their grip, dragging the villain's body back towards the cell, the way they'd come.

"Ah well," they shrugged. "That's a them problem."

"No." It came out a wheeze, barely audible through the villain's frozen lips. "[Hero], please, what-"

"This," the supervillain declared, throwing him down where the hero had been. "Is going to be so much fun. Traitor."

#heroes and villains #angst #tw: violence #villains and heroes #I considered going sweet and then...well #villains #dark fiction #writing #darkfic #writing snippet

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tiefighters · 2 days

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Thrawn

Art by Alexandra Silina || IG

#Alexandra Silina #thrawn #villains #star wars

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epiclamer · 2 days

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This is the post you all have voted for… (i settled for smutty hurt x comfort since you guys were so close)

@save-the-villainous-cat happy two year anniversary baby <3

It wasn’t the end of the world, Villain had been injured in battle countless times before and it was never a problem. But, god, there was so much blood.

They weren’t a very optimistic person by nature, but things had never looked worse for them than at this precise moment. Stumbling blindly through friendly, neighbourhood complexes and past steadily blurring townhouses. Villain could practically feel their demise impending.

“Hey there, stranger~” The criminal gulped, eyes shooting around like a cornered animal looking for an escape. “You’re in pretty rough shape to be standing on two feet…”

Their eyes locked in on a figure—somewhere at the back of their mind they were flooded with a sensation of ease, though they couldn’t quite pinpoint why. They continued to stumble forwards and practically into the stranger’s arms anyways, for whatever reason it felt right.

“Easy— Easy there, Villain… just relax I’ve got you, I’ll take good care of you, huh?”

Warmth spread through the criminal’s mind at the sound of the other’s voice, then down into their muscles before seeping deep to their bones. They blinked and when they opened their eyes again they were laying in a tub, their feet resting at the tap where hot water poured down and into the bath.

For a moment they panicked, but a hand found its way to their shoulder and grounded them back to the present. They knew that hand, they knew that touch.

Hero.

“I’ve got you, baby~” They teased, grinning from ear to ear as they fiddled with the temperature to the water with their free hand.

It all came rushing back to the villain; the fight they had picked with their superior—on purpose—and whatever hope they had left dragging their feet to the hero’s house in a desperate attempt for attention survival.

Hero’s touch was warm where it laid by their collarbone, heating the skin to a feverish degree as it began stitching the villain back together. See, Hero’s powers only worked through touch (something the villain had learned a very long time ago purely on accident), but as much as their touch held only kindness, it did not extend to their healing abilities.

Because, god, did it ever hurt. Painful in some sick and horribly pleasurable way that Villain couldn’t seem to stop craving.

Their collarbone snapped back into place, the bone mending itself back together and their eyes flew open along with the sob that was wrenched from their throat. They flailed, partially to escape the hero’s torturous touch, partially to fall further into their grasp.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay… deep breaths remember?” The crime-stopper’s hand moved down their chest, giving their upper half the gift of a breath as they pained the rest of them.

The villain’s relief was only present for a fleeting moment, as they felt the hero’s fingertips trace the edges of the gash to their chest. Already the ripped skin pulled taught and their torn muscles seized up, under command of the other’s touch.

Villain knew what was coming.

They squirmed, the bath water submerging their legs in its warm embrace, Hero’s hand teasing at their wound, they couldn’t help but try and pull away. “Please—”

The hero shushed them, bringing their free hand to cup the villain’s chin. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” They pressed their hand flat against the gaping hole that should have been the villain’s abdomen, jolting them.

Villain screamed, it was dry and rugged, they recoiled from their nemesis but the only other thing there to hold them was the bath water. “Please, H-Hero, please—” Three more seconds and the criminal was sure to pass out.

Then it stopped. Before the villain could beg again, before they could lose consciousness, the pain stopped.

Cautiously, the villain’s eyes fluttered open, their enemy smiled sweetly back, fingertips now tracing the completely untouched abdomen of the villain’s. They looked normal, they looked okay, even after everything the hero had managed to restore them to their previous glory.

“You okay, gorgeous?”

Villain’s eyes met the hero’s once more, they were gentle yet somewhat mischievous. They nodded, brain completely fogged, maybe from the pain, most likely from the hero’s distracting gaze.

The area still pulsed with the ghost of a previous slash, but there was nothing, just the heat from the hero’s hands. It left a sweet aftertaste on their exhausted mind.

“Think you can handle another round tonight?” They waggled their eyebrows in emphasis, removing one hand to shut off the water to the bath as it began to cover the villain’s stomach.

Villain glared, but only for a moment, some of their usual snideness returning to their demeanour. “Can y-you be a little nicer?”

Hero hummed, eyes glued to their own hands as they made their way down to the inside of the criminal’s thighs, their hands beginning to resume their previous healing glow even under the water. “Really? I thought you liked it rough?”

The villain’s cheeks turned red, but they didn’t have time to retort before the hero placed their hands back against their skin and shut them up with a moan.

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himitsusentaiblog · 3 days

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The Three Dark Sister from Kamen Rider Gotchard, Atropos, Clotho and Lachesis.

#Kamen Rider Gotchard #Reiwa Kamen Rider #Kamen Rider #Villains #Three Dark Sisters #Atropos #Clotho #Lachesis

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winxanity-ii · 2 days

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 15 Chapter 15 | gauging reactions⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

A satisfied smirk played on your lips as you both reached the large, white and gray bus. Iida, ever the gentleman, gestured towards the open door. "After you, Akuma-san," he said politely, stepping aside to allow you on board.

"Thank you, Iida-kun," you replied with a gracious nod, stepping onto the bus. The chatter inside immediately died down as everyone turned to stare at you. The confusion was evident. They were expecting Iida to return, not you.

"Hey, Four Eyes! The hell took you so long? Had to take a crap or somethin—" Bakugo's booming voice cut through the silence, but the sentence died abruptly on his lips as his crimson eyes landed on you. The amusement instantly drained from his face, replaced by a scowl that didn't reach his eyes. "Y/N? The hell you doin' here?"

You ignored his question, choosing instead to unleash your secret weapon—a sweet, closed-eye smile. It was a weapon you'd discovered held surprising power, especially over the other pests in your life—especially your little puppy, Bakugo.

And sure enough, a faint blush crept across Bakugo's cheeks, momentarily breaking his tough-guy facade, shutting him down. He quickly scoffed and turned away toward the window in a futile attempt to hide his flustered reaction.

Aizawa, who had been dozing in the front seat, finally stirred at the commotion. He slowly dragged himself to his feet, his hair a mess as ever. "Took you long enough, Iida," he mumbled in a monotone voice. Noticing the surprised looks on everyone's faces, he sighed dramatically.

"Alright, alright," he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. "Seems the message wasn't clear. Akuma-san here will be joining you on your little field trip to U.S.J. Consider it a... motivator. A chance for Class 1-A to see that they're not the only ones vying for hero licenses." His yellow eyes flickered across the students' faces, a cryptic message lingering in their depths.

There was more to this than a simple observation session; that much was clear. But what exactly? Aizawa left the unspoken question hanging in the air, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

With another tired sigh, he gestured towards the back of the bus. "Find a seat, Akuma-san. Just try not to cause too much trouble." His voice held a hint of contemptment, a silent acknowledgment of your unpredictable nature. There was a flicker of suspicion in his eyes, a single beat where his gaze narrowed slightly before smoothing back to normal.

It was subtle, but it didn't escape you.

You mentally noted to be cautious around the tired-looking teacher. He might just be the first to catch on to your act. Offering a polite bow, you replied with a sugary-sweet voice, "Of course, Aizawa-sensei. I'll be on my best behavior." Turning away, you began walking down the aisle, a playful smile still plastered on your face.

Internally, however, your smile faltered.

Aizawa's suspicion was a wrinkle in your otherwise perfect plan. You'd need to tread carefully, to maintain your facade of the friendly, eager student while subtly probing for information. This unexpected hurdle only made the challenge more exciting.

A silent thrill coursed through you. You thrived on challenges, and Aizawa's suspicion just added another layer of intrigue to the upcoming trip to U.S.J.

The bus rumbled to life, carrying you and Class 1-A towards their unknown destination. Surprisingly, the atmosphere was subdued. Gone were the throngs of curious classmates eager to bombard you with questions. Instead, a tense silence hung in the air. You suspected Bakugo had something to do with it.

The moment Aizawa dismissed you to find a seat, Bakugo had taken charge, kicking his classmate Jiro out of the seat next to him with a booming "Move it, Earphones!" before gesturing curtly for you to sit. You complied readily, taking note of the simmering tension emanating from the blonde.

The subdued chatter from the rest of the class proved to be a goldmine of information. You listened intently as they discussed their Quirks, their hopes, and their anxieties. It was like eavesdropping on a live episode of a hero reality show, and you were enthralled. Right now, the group was discussing each other's Quirks.

"...Bakugo's always angry, so he'll never be that popular."

Bakugo tensed visibly, his grip tightening on the armrest, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Before he could even take time to a moment to seethe and take up for himself, another voice cut through the tension. It was the boy you remembered rescuing at the physical entrance exam—Kaminari. "Y'know, we basically just met you and haven't known each other that long. So it's amazing that everyone already knows his personality is crap steeped in sewage."

Bakugo's entire body seemed to vibrate with rage. The smell of caramel, a telltale sign of his Quirk activating, grew stronger. Veins bulged on his neck, and his crimson eyes burned with fury. "What's with that vocabulary, bastard?! I'll kill you!"

Tuning out the ensuing argument, you found your gaze drifting across the bus. Your eyes met the familiar eyes with black sclerae and yellow irises—the eyes of the girl you'd seen at the U.A. entrance exam.

Your eyes met familiar ones—black sclerae framing bright yellow irises. It was the pink girl from the U.A. entrance exam. A smirk played on your lips as you recalled how easily you'd flustered her. A simple brush of your finger against her cheek had sent her brain into a delightful overload, causing her to screech and flee.

Catching your gaze, her already pink cheeks flushed an even darker, vibrant pink. She bounced nervously in her seat, clearly battling an internal struggle of wanting to talk to you. You accentuated the invitation with a playful smile, tilting your head slightly.

That was all it took.

In a flash of pink lightning, she was hurtling towards you. She squeezed between you and Bakugo, effectively shoving the blonde further into the window and creating a comfortable space for her. Bakugo let out an enraged bark, "Mina!" but she completely ignored him.

Mina practically vibrated with excitement as she stared up at you. "Hi!" she chirped, her grin so bright it could rival the sun. "I'm Ashido Mina, but you can call me Mina!"

Bubbling over with enthusiasm, she launched into a tirade about Bakugo. "He's so mean!" she declared, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Always keeping you all to himself, acting all mysterious. What gives, right?"

For the next ten minutes, Mina became a human hurricane of questions and chatter. Every topic seemed to revolve around you, a whirlwind of curiosity about your life, your connection to Bakugo, and everything in between.

Just as she leaned, her voice filled with curiosity, "So, what's your Quirk?" a hush fell over the bus. Even those who had seemingly been engrossed in their own conversations suddenly perked up, their ears straining to catch your response.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Midoriya, quickly fumbling to pull out his phone. You knew exactly what he was doing—taking notes on your Quirk, weaknesses, anything you might reveal.

After all, throughout your middle school years, you'd kept your Quirk a closely guarded secret. The only one privy to its true nature was Bakugo. But Midoriya, with his analytical mind, probably believed it must be powerful enough to earn Bakugo's begrudging respect.

Bakugo, barked at Mina. "Mind your damn business, Pinky!" His voice crackling with irritation that anyone would dare try to get closer to you.

"It's alright, Bakugo," you said in a sugary-sweet tone. "A little curiosity never hurt anyone, right?" A pointed look in his direction effectively silenced any further protests.

Turning back to Mina, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes, you leaned in conspiratorially. Your voice dropped to a whisper, sending shivers down the girl's spine. "Well,I can't exactly tell you everything. After all, our classes are a bit... competitive, wouldn't you say?" you purred, leaving the implication hanging heavy in the air. "But what I will say is that it's very mind-blowing."

Just as you finished your cryptic sentence, the bus lurched to a halt. Aizawa's tired voice echoed through the bus. "Alright, everyone out. Time for your little observation session at U.S.J." The bus doors hissed open, revealing a sprawling complex bathed in the warm afternoon sun.

The spell was broken. The students, momentarily captivated by your words, scrambled out of their seats, their curiosity momentarily forgotten in the face of the unknown that awaited them.

"Hello, everyone! I've been waiting for you!" A voice suddenly boomed as you all were exiting the bus.

Looking over, you spot a towering figure clad in a spacesuit-inspired hero costume, bouncing over with an enthusiasm that rivaled a sugar high.

A familiar voice piped up from beside you. "It's the Space Hero, Thirteen! The chivalrous pro who's rescued a ton of people from disasters across the world!" Izuku practically vibrated with excitement.

"Woo-hoo! Thirteen is so awesome! She's one of my favorite heroes!" Uraraka, a girl with a brown bob and pink round circles on her cheeks chime in, pumping her fist in the air.

Thirteen, used to the fanatic excitement, gestured grandly towards the building behind them. "I can't wait to show you what's inside!"

The students erupted in a chorus of awes and excited chatter. You, however, remained detached, observing the scene with a practiced cool. This "training facility" felt more like a glorified amusement park.

Inside, the building was a kaleidoscope of zones—a shipwreck, a landslide, a fire simulation—all meticulously crafted to resemble real-world disaster scenarios. A collective gasp rippled through the group as they took it all in.

"Holy smokes! It looks like some kind of amusement park!" Kirishima, a redheaded boy with a rather impressive physique for you guys age, pointed at the complex with wide eyes; his muscles straining against his hero uniform.

"A shipwreck," Thirteen boomed, "a landslide, a fire, a windstorm... and so on! I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters. I call it the Unforseen Simulation Joint, or USJ for short!"

A few students muttered comparisons to Universal Studios Japan under their breath. You smirked, unsurprised by the uninspired name.

As Thirteen continued her introductory speech, Aizawa sauntered in, his usual stoic expression etched on his face. He stopped beside Thirteen, a brief conversation passing between them that only served to deepen the furrow on his brow.

As the two adults talked, a smart part of you wanted to eavesdrops and see what it was, but ultimately decided against it; it's not like you'll actually learn something from it.

"That man is the height of irresponsibility," Aizawa sighed, shaking his head before glancing back at the students. "The clock's ticking. We should get started." He moved aside, clearing the way for Thirteen's grand demonstration.

Thirteen raised a hand, her voice booming once more. "Excellent! Before we begin, let me just say one thing... well, maybe two things. Possibly three, four, or..." she trailed off, earning a collective sweatdrop from the student body.

As Thirteen expounded on the power and potential dangers of their quirks, emphasizing the importance of responsible quirk usage and the true essence of heroism, you found yourself stifling a yawn as your mind wandered.

Yes, quirks could be used for destruction as well as heroism, it's practically common sense, yet here you all were.

Honestly, with so many rules put in place, you couldn't help but feel like being a villain seemed like a much less tedious career choice.

Just as Thirteen finished her speech with a dramatic bow, a sudden plunge into darkness sent shivers down everyone's spine.

A dark purple mist-like portal materialized in the center of the plaza, the swirling vortex pulsating with an unnatural light. Then, figures began to emerge, their forms obscured by the shadows cast by the portal.

A collective gasp rippled through the group of students. Confusion morphed into fear as the students buzzed with questions. Kirishima leaned forward, peering curiously at the portal. "Woah, what is that thing? Some surprise training exercise? High-tech villain simulation?" he asked. "Wait, has the training started already?"

Villains?

The word echoed in your head, a foreign concept whispered in hushed tones but never truly experienced.

Ever since you woke up in this quirk-infested world, heroes were all you'd ever known. Sure, you'd seen countless reports of villains being apprehended and brought to justice, dramatic displays of power broadcasted on every news channel. But to see them here, in person, was an entirely different experience.

Your mind raced, sifting through the possibilities. A villain attack during a training exercise? Either a brilliant diversion or an incredibly reckless gamble.

Aizawa's eyes widened as the portal began to spew forth figures clad in villainous attire. "Stay back and together! Don't move!" he barked, his voice tight with urgency as he yanked on his goggles, his gaze hardening as it landed on the approaching villains. "Thirteen! Protect the students!"

Aizawa's pronouncement hung heavy in the air, shattering the atmosphere like a dropped glass.

Your focus shifted to the pro-hero. His reaction confirmed your suspicions—this was no simulation. These were real villains, a fact driven home by Aizawa's harsh glare directed at the figures emerging from the portal.

These were the outcasts, the rule breakers—the very antithesis of the heroes you'd grown accustomed to observing.

A thrill, a subtle current of excitement, snaked its way through you. This wasn't part of the plan. This was chaos, a disruption to the established order—a wrinkle thrown into the carefully constructed tapestry of your "observation session."

The portal began shrinking as all the villains—except two—spread out to the different zones. One was a large, hulking, muscular figure with skin like polished onyx, etched with a roadmap of jagged scars and an exposed brain. The other, a lanky figure with grayish-blue hair, covered in dry patches and old scars marring his pale skin; fourteen embalmed hands were strategically placed to cling to his body.

The mist-portal soon coalesced into a head with two glowing gold eyes. "Thirteen... and Eraser Head, huh? The teacher's schedule we received the other day...said that All Might was also supposed to be here." The mist spoke, a hint of amusement in his raspy voice.

A nervous tremor ran through the crowd. Your gaze, usually veiled with practiced indifference, sharpened as it flickered between the approaching villains and the faces of the students of 1-A, now etched with a mixture of fear and confusion. You subtly observed the students, gauging their reactions.

You couldn't help but smirk internally. This unexpected turn of events was far more interesting than any pre-planned exercise.

A genuine villain attack would provide a much clearer picture of Class 1-A's strengths, weaknesses, and most importantly, how they worked together under pressure.

This was exactly the kind of chaos you thrived in.

***le gasp, villians!?

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thedupshadove · 1 month

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Top-Tier Villain Motivations

They will be safe. It doesn't matter who else or what else burns as long as They will be safe.

I will be safe. The hunger and the cold will never touch me again.

Fuck any bitch who's prettier(/cooler/better-liked/better at making dumplings) than me.

Yes, Master

Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. LOVE ME!

I know the terrible things these so-called "heroes" will do if I don't stop them (<- is absolutely wrong)

I don't want a better future, I want a better past!

No other way to get performance art funded these days

#writing #villains

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mostly-funnytwittertweets · 1 year

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#cartoons #villains #politics #memes #meme #lol #funny #tweets #tweet #twitter

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probablybadrpgideas · 4 months

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Ways to make your villain morally ambiguous:

Eats babies, but only for medical reasons.

Every time they kill someone they make a clone, ensuring that strictly speaking they're having no effect on the amount of life in the universe

Want to end all bad things but only has a gun to do it with.

Has exactly five (5) noble traits: tips waiters, donates to medical gofundmes, tidies your bathroom, buys milk for orphans, once gave a dog a hat.

Never attacks anyone who can't fight back unless it's convenient for their plans or they really want to.

Uses your correct pronouns when informing you about the horrible death trap they put you in.

Actually has an antipoverty machine powered by blending orphans. Look, they know its contrived, but you can only play the cards you're dealt, right?

Is pretty sure they're doing the right thing. They haven't actually checked, they've been busy, but they're pretty sure!

Is only doing evil because they got hit by an Evil Ray that makes you violent and dangerous.

Hasn't ever done anything wrong and is actively helping the heroes. It's a very light shade of morally grey.

#rpg #roleplaying game #villains

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timo-0126 · 4 months

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???

#my art #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #dark urge #orin the red #Villains

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kairenn-n · 2 years

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must a villain be redeemed? isn't it enough that they're bitter, evil, and most importantly, hot?

#u know who this is about #shitpost #ok to reblog #villains

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bodhrancomedy · 8 months

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I think it’s important to have villains who are both nice and human.

Especially nice. Polite. Empathetic. Thoughtful.

Because none of those traits translate directly to good. And a lot of them are easy shields against the description ‘bad’.

#queer #writing #writeblr #villains

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weirdlandtv · 3 months

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Animation art from the intro to the 1966 BATMAN TV show. (Art by Lee Mishkin.)

I was a kid when BATMAN (1989) came out. It was a massive pop culture phenomenon, here in Holland too, and someone somewhere in television network land shouted out, “Quick! Batman! What do we have!”, and someone somewhere remembered the old TV show, and then someone somewhere dug up and dusted off that old TV show and pushed it into running a few more laps. This hopelessly Bat-crazed kid tho thought the show was hopelessly quaint and after a few episodes didnt tune in anymore same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.

Annoying snarky tone aside, it’s actually a fun show. It has many fans still, and fans are never wrong.

One thing I only notice now: is that Clayface, between Catwoman and the knife-wielding Texarkana Phantom Killer? (Is that Catwoman?) Also, who are the two villains who lead the charge? There’s one who looks like Shaggy’s evil scientist uncle and a green-shaded one with a scaley mask. They seem too distinctive to be just generic villains. Sending out a Bat-signal to any Bat-fans…

#batman #animation #animation art #1960s #60s #lee mishkin #intro #opening #tv shows #tv #villains #vintage

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the-modern-typewriter · 4 months

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Imagine a villain straight refusing to fight another member of the Hero Team just cuz his hero archnemesis is not present

"Where are they?"

"Oh, not again." The protagonist could feel a headache coming on. "Look-"

"-Are they hurt?" The villain's eyes went dark and dangerous. "Who hurt them?"

"They're fine! Oh my god."

"Then where are they?"

The protagonist definitely had a headache. "It's their day off."

"They didn't tell me they had the day off. What's wrong?"

The really concerning part was that the hero probably would tell the villain which days they were working and which they weren't. The two of them were as bad as each other! The hero was going to be unbearable when they came back and found out that the team had fought the villain without them.

"Can we just get this over with?" the protagonist tried.

"No."

The protagonist sighed. They pinched the bridge of their nose and took a few deep breaths. "Okay," they said slowly. "But you realise I'm still going to have confiscate your nightmare robot."

"It's not for you. And don't think I didn't notice you dodging the question!"

The protagonist considered their options; lies, truth, everything in between.

The villain's nightmare robot hunkered down a little more pointedly in the middle of the bridge. Several people honked their horns. It was, honestly, embarrassing for everyone involved at that point.

"Their grandma died."

"Oh no." The villain's whole face softened. "Grandma L or Grandma P?"

Of course he knew the hero's grandparents. Of course he did. "Look, about the robot-"

"-I'll reschedule," the villain said.

"I can't let you keep the robot. My boss would have my head."

"That sounds like a 'you' problem. I have flowers to send."

The protagonist's eye twitched. "If you try and walk away with it-"

"-Do you really want to traumatize this entire bridge of innocent civilians?"

"I'm sure they're traumatized having to listen to you two idiots on a weekly basis."

"I'm taking the robot. When are they back?"

"They haven't said," the protagonist said, through gritted teeth. "As you know-"

"-They'll be doing all the funeral arrangements. Yeah. You know what, give me their number. I'll text them."

"I'm not giving you their number."

"Why not?"

"It's against policy."

"I'd like to express my condolences."

The protagonist looked them dead in the face. "Mm. That sounds like a 'you' problem. I have a robot to confiscate."

The robot slammed a fist into the bridge. It wobbled precariously.

The protagonist raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. They folded their arms across their chest.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" the villain snarled.

"I hate you too, don't worry."

"I should kill you."

"They'd have so much paperwork when they got back from the funeral. It would really improve their month, you killing me."

They ended up glaring at each other.

"If I give you the bloody stupid robot, will you give me their number?"

The protagonist smiled sweetly. "That's the only smart thing I've ever heard you say."

Everyone, generally, preferred it when the hero was around.

They all made sure it didn't happen again.

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #villain x hero #short story #writing snippet #story snippet #ficlet #villains #heroes #idiots in love

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winxanity-ii · 3 days

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 14 Chapter 14 | secret syllabus⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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The day had bled into another, the memory of your encounter with Todoroki a distant thought as you focused on the familiar routine of navigating the bustling halls of U.A. Lunch beckoned, and you clutched the brown paper bag of goodness—courtesy of a grumbled-but-appreciated offering from Bakugo—closer to your chest.

Just as you were about to turn the corner leading to the cafeteria, a deep, gravelly voice boomed from behind. "Akuma-san, a word please."

You whirled around, spotting Blood Vlad, his imposing figure filling the doorway, holding something to the side of him. A flicker of surprise danced across your features before settling into a mask of polite neutrality. "Kan-sensei," you greeted with a respectful nod.

"There's been a slight change in your schedule," he began, his crimson eyes studying you with an intensity that could make lesser students squirm. "Principal Nezu, with the unanimous support of the faculty, has extended an invitation for you to join Class 1-A at U.S.J. today."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Unforeseen Simulation Joint arc you'd devoured in textbooks? You couldn't help but be curious. "U.S.J.?" you echoed, allowing a touch of confusion to lace your voice.

Blood Vlad grunted in response. "Given your exceptional performance during class activities and your consistent lead over your peers, it's been deemed beneficial for you to observe Class 1-A during their training exercise. Consider it a... crash course in advanced hero work."

A slow smile spread across your face. Observing Class 1-A, the cream of the crop students at U.A.? This wasn't just an observation session; it was a golden opportunity to glean valuable intel on their strengths, weaknesses, and, most importantly, their Quirks.

Information you could then use to your advantage—to elevate your position within U.A.

"I understand, Kan-sensei. Thank you for informing me."

Blood Vlad gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. He lifted up the object he held—it was a sleek black suitcase. "Here," he rumbled, tossing the suitcase towards you with surprising agility. "Your hero costume. Get changed and report to the class. There, someone from 1-A should take you to the others, where Aizawa-sensei will brief you further."

You caught the suitcase effortlessly, the weight reassuring in your hand. "Understood," you responded, a single, clipped word that held a promise of silent understanding.

With a final, assessing glance, Blood Vlad turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone with the weight of unexpected opportunity and the promise of a thrilling afternoon at U.S.J.

You tucked the hero costume case under your arm and decided to swing back by the classroom to drop off your uneaten lunch before heading to change. As you approached the classroom door, the murmur of hushed conversation filtered through the thin barrier.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by the sight of nine of your classmates, a mix of familiar and less familiar faces, clustered around your usual desk.

Monoma shot up like a rocket the second his eyes landed on you. His wide, cheesy grin could rival All Might's in its enthusiasm. "President!" he crowed, his voice cutting through the hushed conversations.

The other eight turned towards you, their surprise mirroring Monoma's initial reaction. Tetsutetsu, gave a hearty laugh. "Akuma-san! Is everything fine from your... um... feminine emergencies? You nearly missed lunch! Good thing we waited for you," he boomed, his voice lacking any real malice.

"I appreciate you all's generosity, Tetsu-kun," you replied smoothly, keeping your voice vague as you internally tsked.

You knew someone—or rather, several someones—would be lingering for you despite dipping out of class ten minutes prior with the well-worn excuse of feminine issues. You just hadn't expected quite so many, or for them to be so persistent and actually wait for your return.

Monoma, ever the pest, was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, his persistent grin plastered on his face. "Whoa, what's that?" he blurted out, pointing an accusing finger at the hero costume case you held.

Tetsu's earlier question about your extended restroom break was clearly forgotten.

Kendo, your fiery-haired vice president, shot him a withering look. "Monoma, manners," she hissed under her breath, teal eyes blazing in irritation.

You, however, didn't mind the interruption. This was a perfect opportunity to further cultivate your air of mystery. A slight smile played on your lips as you lifted the case a few inches, the sleek black surface catching the light. "It's my hero outfit," you replied nonchalantly.

The moment the case left your side, the classroom erupted in a flurry of excited chatter. Tsuburaba whistled appreciatively. "Whoa, looks intense, Akuma-san! What'd you get, a jetpack with it or something?"

A chorus of questions and comments filled the air. "How'd you get it so soon?" chirped Tsunotori, the girl with tall, pale tan horns, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Maybe it's super cute!" squealed Tokage, the dark, moss-green-haired student, bouncing on her toes.

Monoma scoffed. "Nah, definitely not cute. Probably something hot, right? Like a high-tech bodysuit that hugs and enhances her bo—"

Kendo, clearly exasperated, reached over and smacked Monoma on the back of the neck with a resounding thwack. "Monoma! Manners!" she hissed through gritted teeth once again.

Monoma yelped, rubbing his sore neck with a pout. "Jeez, Kendo, what was that for?"

Ignoring him completely, Kendo bowed towards you in apology. "I'm terribly sorry about Monoma, Akuma-san. He can be a bit too much sometimes."

You raised a hand, silencing the classroom with a single gesture. A satisfied smirk played on your lips as the chatter died down instantly. You liked it; they obeyed your command without you even needing to resort to your 'Quirk'. It spoke volumes about the hierarchy you'd established in Class 1-B.

"Thank you, Kendo-san," you replied politely, acknowledging her apology. "It's quite alright. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a hero costume to change into." You gave a curt nod and turned towards the door, a thrill coursing through you.

This unexpected invitation to U.S.J. was shaping up to be far more interesting than you could have ever anticipated.

With a quick stride, you made your way to the nearest restroom, eager to slip into your hero costume. Inside a private stall, you carefully removed your school uniform, anticipation building with each rustle of fabric.

Unzipping the sleek black case, you revealed your hero costume in all its glory. Quickly donning it, you stood back to a moment to admire your outfit in the mirror.

Your blouse, a pale aqua, was crisp and neatly buttoned, giving you a professional yet relaxed vibe. The black tie knotted firmly around your collar added a touch of seriousness to your look. Over your blouse, a fitted black blazer hugged your form, its sharp lines mirroring your newfound determination.

You'd paired this with classic black trousers, which complemented your frame with a comfortable, tailored fit. The pants ended just above brown leather shoes, polished to a high shine.

With your hands casually tucked into your pockets, you exuded a confident, ready-for-business air, softened by the whimsical hint of the forest green backdrop that adorned the inside of the blazer. It wasn't camouflage, exactly, but rather a subtle artistic flourish that hinted at a hidden power lurking beneath the surface.

Satisfied, you exited the restroom, ready to rejoin your classmates. As you walked back into your classroom, the murmurs started again. This time, however, they weren't filled with questions about your absence, but with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

A blur of movement zipped towards you. It was Fukidashi, the boy with the comic book head, bouncing excitedly. With a burst of energy, his head transformed into a flashing white speech bubble that read "Whoop! Whoop!" in bold letters, accompanied by a pair of clapping hands.

Behind Fukidashi shuffled Komori, a short girl with honey-brown hair curved inwards in a mushroom-shaped bob. Her usual shy demeanor was amplified by the situation, her cheeks dusted a soft pink.

She nervously twirled an end of her bob as she approached you, her voice barely a whisper. "A-Akuma-san," she stammered, "it... it looks really good on you. Very well-suited." She couldn't quite meet your gaze, quickly rushing off to hide behind Tetsutetsu, her face burning red.

Monoma attempted to maintain his usual bravado, his gaze, however, lingered a beat too long on your figure, a faint blush creeping up his neck despite his crossed arms. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "Alright, alright," he scoffed, "So you got your hero costume early. Big deal. Why'd they give it to you anyway?"

You tilted your head slightly, casting a playful glance up at him through your lashes. A slow, teasing smile played on your plump lips as they stretched into a half-smirk. "Do you really want to know, Monoma-kun?~" you purred, your voice dripping with a deliberate sweetness.

The effect was instantaneous. Monoma's blush deepened several shades, and a flustered look crossed his face. It wasn't just him; several other classmates found themselves inexplicably flustered by your sudden display of playful charm. You couldn't help but internally smirk.

With a playful lilt in your voice, you replied, "Well, let's just say I wanted something practical. Something that wouldn't attract undue attention while working undercover amongst civilians."

This, of course, was a carefully constructed lie.

The truth was, the familiar lines of the suit were a subtle comfort, a reminder of your past life at Public Safety. But that was a secret you found no use in revealing.

"Now, as for the gadgets and upgrades," you gestured towards the subtle metallic accents lining the blazer, "there's extreme heat resistance for those sonic-based Quirks, and..." you trailed off dramatically, allowing a hint of mystery to linger. "Let's just say there are a few other surprises built in. Let's keep them under wraps for now, shall we?" The implication of hidden power was clear, and your classmates leaned in, captivated.

Tetsutestu let out a whistle, rushing over with eyes sparkling. "Whoa, that's sounds so manly, Akuma-san! Always gotta be prepared!"

Even Monoma, despite his embarrassment, managed to grumble a begrudging compliment, "I guess, you do look good. Not that I care or anything..." A faint blush still lingered on his cheeks, betraying his attempt at indifference.

The rest of the class chimed in, showering you with compliments on both the practicality and sleek design of your costume.

Suddenly, a sharp rap on the door startled everyone into silence.

The door creaked open to reveal a young man standing impeccably in the doorway. He was relatively tall and muscular, with a wide frame and short dark blue hair neatly flattened and parted on the right. His most striking features, however, were his calves.

Incredibly thick and shaped like automobile engines, six silver exhaust pipes protruded from each leg in columns of three. This, you knew from Bakugo, was the Quirk 'Engine' that granted him incredible speed and kicking power.

"Excuse me," the young man began, his voice polite and formal. "My name is Iida, and I'm here from 1-A to escort an 'Akuma Y/N' to the U.S.J. meet-up-point. The bus is preparing to leave shortly."

An awkward silence filled the room. Your classmates exchanged glances, unsure how to react to the sudden arrival of a student from the prestigious Class 1-A.

Monoma, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, took a step closer to you, his usual sneer plastered on his face. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. A fancy 1-A student here grace us with his presence. Think you can just waltz in here and snatch our precious president away, huh?"

You cut him off before he could unleash another tirade. A gentle giggle escaped your lips, the sound light and carefree. "Monoma-kun," you said, your voice laced with a hint of playful reprimand, "that's no way to treat a guest, especially a hero-to-be like Iida-kun."

Mentally, you silently applauded Iida for his stoicism. Despite the tense atmosphere and Monoma's childish behavior, he remained calm and collected, a true mark of a leader.

Kendo, sensing the potential for escalation, wasted no time in delivering her own brand of justice. With a swift movement, she karate-chopped Monoma in the back of the neck. The blow, though not malicious, was more effective than the last two. Monoma yelped and crumpled to the floor, instantly silenced.

"Monoma deserved that," Kendo muttered under her breath, sending a reassuring smile your way. "Please excuse him once again, Akuma-san."

You waved her off. "No worries at all, Kendo-san. It seems we all have a bit of fire in us, wouldn't you agree?" With a final flourish, you rose to your feet, smoothing down the non-existent wrinkles of your blazer. Turning to your gathered classmates, you gave a small bow. "I'll be back shortly, everyone. Until then, keep up the excellent work."

Your gaze then settled on Kendo, your fiery-haired vice president. You placed a soft smile onto your lips as you met her eyes, tilting your head in a gesture of quiet confidence. Walking forward, you reached out and gently grasped both of her hands between yours. Your touch was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the cool exterior you often presented.

"Kendo-san," you began, your voice dropping to a low murmur, "I'm counting on you to keep everyone in line while I'm gone. You're the voice of reason here, and I know they'll listen to you." A playful glint entered your eyes. "Especially Monoma-kun. See if you can keep him from causing too much trouble."

Kendo's eyes widened momentarily, a harsh blush creeping up her cheeks. You couldn't help but find her flustered expression humorous.

Once again, here was someone reduced to a blushing mess by you from merely a simple touch and a few honeyed words.

"O-of course, Akuma-san," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I, uh... I won't let you down." Her long orange hair, usually tied back in a high ponytail, seemed to frizz slightly at the ends, betraying her underlying anxiety.

"I know you won't." Turning your attention back to Iida, you offered a polite smile. "Thank you for coming to fetch me, Iida-kun. I'm ready to go whenever you are."

As you began walking side-by-side with Iida, a memory flickered in the back of your mind. You recalled seeing him a few times around U.A., his distinctive blue hair and engine calves making him hard to miss, especially since he'd always hung Midoriya and some rosy-cheeked girl.

Filing that information away for later, you decided it would be beneficial to have a rule-follower like Iida on your good side. With a casual smile, you turned to him. "By the way, Iida-kun," you began casually, offering your hand for a shake, "allow me to formally introduce myself. Akuma Y/N, Class 1-B president, at your service."

Iida seemed momentarily surprised. Perhaps he'd expected you to maintain the same aloof demeanor your other classmates had displayed earlier. But as you offered your hand and a friendly smile, you could visibly see his demeanor relax a bit.

A hint of blush crept up his cheeks as he let out a short, embarrassed chuckle. "Ah, well, yes," he stammered, taking your hand with a light shake. "Of course I know who you are. Midoriya and, well, Bakugo-kun, have mentioned you a few times. It's a pleasure to properly meet you, Akuma-san. Iida Tenya, Class 1-A president, at your service as well."

You chuckled, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Also, please forgive the... enthusiasm of my classmates earlier. They tend to get a little carried away, especially when it comes to showing off Class B's best." You flashed him a wry smile. "Being class president isn't always sunshine and rainbows, is it?"

The dam broke. Iida, a wellspring of pent-up frustration finally unleashed, launched into a tirade about the struggles of student leadership. He spoke of overzealous classmates, mountains of hero-work on top of general education, and the constant pressure to maintain perfection.

You listened patiently, interjecting with understanding nods and sympathetic sighs. It wasn't hard to play the part of the eager listener, and Iida, starved for an outlet, poured out his woes.

As the conversation flowed, your eyes subtly began to glow a soft yellow. A faint, almost imperceptible sheen flickered over his eyes behind the glasses. He was under your subtle influence.

With this control in mind, you skillfully shifted the conversation. "Speaking of pressure," you began, your voice laced with feigned curiosity, "I can only imagine the expectations placed on Class 1-A. All those top heroes coming out of your class..." You trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Iida, caught in your gentle manipulation, readily took the bait. His frustration momentarily forgotten, he puffed out his chest slightly, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "Yes, well, the pressure is immense," he declared, his voice taking on a more animated tone. "We have to constantly strive for excellence, to uphold the legacy of our predecessors. It's not for the faint of heart, that's for sure."

You leaned in slightly, feigning intense interest. "Tell me more," you urged, your voice barely a whisper. "What are some of the challenges you face? The unspoken expectations? Perhaps some of the Quirks your classmates possess..." You planted the seed of information-sharing subtly, watering it with your carefully constructed persona.

Iida, basking in your newfound attentiveness, readily complied. He launched into a detailed explanation of Class 1-A's rigorous training regimen, the immense pressure to succeed, and even dropped a few names of his classmates and their Quirks; his info a little more detailed than Bakugo's recount from the first day a couple of weeks ago.

You absorbed this information eagerly, filing it away for future use.

Just as you both rounded the corner to the bus, the yellow glow in your eyes faded away. With an innocent smile, you ended the connection, confident that you'd gleaned all you needed for now.

Pushing your control too hard could backfire; a dazed and confused Iida would be a red flag in a school crawling with heroes. No, subtlety was key.

You had taken the first bite out of the apple of Class 1-A's secrets, and you were hungry for more.

***usj arc slowly approaching...

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writingwithfolklore · 2 months

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5 Tips for Creating Intimidating Antagonists

Antagonists, whether people, the world, an object, or something else are integral to giving your story stakes and enough conflict to challenge your character enough to change them. Today I’m just going to focus on people antagonists because they are the easiest to do this with!

1. Your antagonist is still a character

While sure, antagonists exist in the story to combat your MC and make their lives and quest difficult, they are still characters in the story—they are still people in the world.

Antagonists lacking in this humanity may land flat or uninteresting, and it’s more likely they’ll fall into trope territory.

You should treat your antagonists like any other character. They should have goals, objectives, flaws, backstories, etc. (check out my character creation stuff here). They may even go through their own character arc, even if that doesn’t necessarily lead them to the ‘good’ side.

Really effective antagonists are human enough for us to see ourselves in them—in another universe, we could even be them.

2. They’re… antagonistic

There’s two types of antagonist. Type A and Type B. Type A antagonist’s have a goal that is opposite the MC’s. Type B’s goal is the same as the MC’s, but their objectives contradict each other.

For example, in Type A, your MC wants to win the contest, your antagonist wants them to lose.

In Type B, your MC wants to win the contest, and your antagonist wants to win the same contest. They can’t both win, so the way they get to their goal goes against each other.

A is where you get your Draco Malfoy’s, other school bullies, or President Snow’s (they don’t necessarily want what the MC does, they just don’t want them to have it.)

B is where you get the other Hunger Games contestants, or any adventure movie where the villain wants the secret treasure that the MCs are also hunting down. They want the same thing.

3. They have well-formed motivations

While we as the writers know that your antagonist was conceptualized to get in the way of the MC, they don’t know that. To them, they exist separate from the MC, and have their own reasons for doing what they do.

In Type A antagonists, whatever the MC wants would be bad for them in some way—so they can’t let them have it. For example, your MC wants to destroy Amazon, Jeff Bezos wants them not to do that. Why not? He wants to continue making money. To him, the MC getting what they want would take away something he has.

Other motivations could be: MC’s success would take away an opportunity they want, lose them power or fame or money or love, it could reveal something harmful about them—harming their reputation. It could even, in some cases, cause them physical harm.

This doesn’t necessarily have to be true, but the antagonist has to believe it’s true. Such as, if MC wins the competition, my wife will leave me for them. Maybe she absolutely wouldn’t, but your antagonist isn’t going to take that chance anyway.

In Type B antagonists, they want the same thing as the MC. In this case, their motivations could be literally anything. They want to win the competition to have enough money to save their family farm, or to prove to their family that they can succeed at something, or to bring them fame so that they won’t die a ‘nobody’.

They have a motivation separate from the MC, but that pesky protagonist keeps getting in their way.

4. They have power over the MC

Antagonists that aren’t able to combat the MC very well aren’t very interesting. Their job is to set the MC back, so they should be able to impact their journey and lives. They need some sort of advantage, privilege, or power over the MC.

President Snow has armies and the force of his system to squash Katniss. She’s able to survive through political tension and her own army of rebels, but he looms an incredibly formidable foe.

Your antagonist may be more wealthy, powerful, influential, intelligent, or skilled. They may have more people on their side. They are superior in some way to the protagonist.

5. And sometimes they win

Leading from the last point, your antagonists need wins. They need to get their way sometimes, which means your protagonist has to lose. You can do a bit of a trade off that allows your protagonist to lose enough to make a formidable foe out of their antagonist, but still allows them some progress using Fortunately, Unfortunately.

It goes like… Fortunately, MC gets accepted into the competition. Unfortunately, the antagonist convinces the rest of the competitors to hate them. Fortunately, they make one friend. Unfortunately, their first entry into the competition gets sabotaged. Fortunately, they make it through the first round anyway, etc. etc.

An antagonist that doesn’t do any antagonizing isn’t very interesting, and is completely pointless in their purpose to heighten stakes and create conflict for your protagonist to overcome. We’ll probably be talking about antagonists more soon!

Anything I missed?

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing inspiration #writing community #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #antagonists #villains #writing antagonists #5 tips for creating intimidating antagonists

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